Roano looked at his watch. “Juan?”
“Si Padron?” Juan answered, stepping into the room.
“Are not the women back from shopping yet?”
“I will go check, Padron. Just a moment please.”
Roano made a show of looking at his watch again. “I thought they would be back by now.”
And just like that all the tension left the room. I wasn’t even aware of how tense the whole place was. It was like fathoms of deep air lifted and the thinness left me giddy. No one was going to die. The women were probably shopping, never aware of the fate hanging over them. I still had the cutlery in my hands. I cut a slice of the roast beef and put the cutlery on the serving platter. I wasn’t going to eat. I would throw it up if I did, but I did my bit for show. Now, if I could just manage to walk when Kane needed me to, all would be well.
Oh my fucking god!
You're the One For Me
It’s odd that being close to death is such an aphrodisiac, but it is. Perhaps it’s the closeness of mortality, which drives our bodies to need to feel the closeness of life. It could be all biology.
I once heard of a man who had a large apple tree in his back yard. He grew up with that apple tree and, inheriting his parents’ house, he longed to taste those apples again. But after two years the tree quit bearing fruit. So, he took a handful of long nails and a hammer out to the tree and pounded them into the trunk at the base. His wife asked him, why he did that, and he told her, to remind the tree why it gave fruit. The next year, the branches were full of fruit.
I don’t know if the story is true, and I certainly didn’t want children at this stage of my life, but I did want to feel alive and to feel Kane alive with me. That, and the Harley between my legs, and my arms around his waist all the way back to our downtown Tijuana hotel room, I was hotter than I needed to be.
Pushing him back onto the bed I stripped my clothing, and pulled his pants down. He talked, but I have no idea what he said. His cock was erect, and that’s all the communication I needed to mount him. I didn’t need any special magical foreplay. I just needed him, inside me, and to see the agony in his eyes as I brought him to orgasm.
The grip he had on my ass when he came left bruises, and when I saw them in the mirror after, I felt pride, and thought they would make great tattoos.
“You said that you wanted to find out how large of a group they had in TJ,” I said, slipping on a fresh t-shirt and then deciding that was all the clothing I wanted on at the moment. I sat on the edge of the bed and feasted my eyes on his long nude body.
“Yes, and I think we got that,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “How? I remember my life threatened, twice, and a body on the floor. Some fast talking about a gang in Chula Vista, but when did you get this other information?”
“The topics we discussed with the people at the house. By tonight, they will have looked up the topics and posted in their Social Media to their friends about what they found. They’ll talk about you, and me, and what we said about the topics.”
“And?” I asked.
“And, it makes it easy to find out who the centers of their social circles are, and who their friends are, where they are, how active they are. Then we’ll search the histories and find out all we need to know, with a bit of creative extrapolation. We aren’t looking for evidence, just information. That information will allow me to know where my influence is needed.”
“And you’ve never considered just shutting the gangs down all together?” That is not my call to make. People choose their paths, within them there is good and there is bad. I’m here to make sure that there are no extremes.
“I’d say a lot of what is going on in the world is…extreme.”
“But you and I, Misty, we have a different understanding of the world.”
“You think the world needs cartels and I think they don’t.”
He shook his head and little laugh escaped his throat. “Cartels exist. Have always existed in one form or the other. Free will also exists. And the cartels have chosen what lives they wish to lead, that is not up to me to change. Too much goes wrong when you force people to be who they aren’t.”
I nodded, trying to digest what he was saying. I didn’t understand fully, of course. As a reporter, I was tasked with the duty of exposing that bad shit that happened in this world, with the hopes that someone strong enough, someone powerful enough, would be able to shut the whole shit down.
Kane, from all the things I had experienced in such a short period of time, seemed like that ‘someone strong’, except he had a different view of things and sooner or later, I would have to wrap my head around it all. I’d have to step away from my beliefs and figure out how to make sense of what it is he does.
Hungover from you
Morning came bright and hot through the window, with only a few minutes left before the day turned into afternoon. Kane lay beside me, and my first thought was this was all I wanted for the rest of my life. To be with him, to help him with his work, to understand him more, and to wake beside him each morning – or afternoon. Hell, who needed watches?
This was our third morning together. The social media hunt was easier than I thought it would be. People just can’t help themselves. They tell you everything about their lives and friends on there. What they don’t say directly, they tell you through their attitudes and responses about current topics, like government, laws, religion. Anything, and everything. Building profiles for these people was laughably simple. At this point we had a clear idea of how many members of the Cortez Cartel were in Tijuana, how many were in contact regularly with the Loco 49s and Mexico City members, and an accurate list of what topics were important to them. Not to mention, who was fucking who, and who was pissed off about it.
Going through all that information left me thoroughly impressed. As a reported, I knew how to dig and I knew how to dig deep. But this new spin Kane put on things, it woke parts if my brain that had obviously been asleep.
I ordered breakfast of cut fruit, smoothies and a large plate of steak and bacon for the man still in bed, dreaming dragon dreams.
When breakfast arrived, the man brought it in on a cart, and left it to me. Kane came out of the bedroom, looking yummy just as I was tipping the waiter.
I turned to my lover. “So, what’s on the list for us today?” I had my normal clothing on; t-shirt, running shoes and jeans. My hair pulled back in a ponytail, since I hadn’t showered yet. I enjoyed showering with him, so I’d decided to wait until he was ready.
“For us? Not much. You have a date with Slate down in Mexico City,” he said.
“What? I thought we would be together more than a few days before I had to make the rounds with your brothers.” The thought of what I agreed to felt off and not at all fun. I found the man I wanted to be with, and nothing any of his brothers could do would be of interest to me, or turn my head. It was a waste of time.
Still, I did agree. Right now, I couldn’t remember why that was a good idea or why I agreed to it at all. But I did agree. Fine.
“When do I leave?” I asked.
“There’s a ticket waiting for you for a one o’clock flight,” he said, and poured himself a cup of coffee.
I walked over to him, wanting to wrap my arms around him – and he stepped back, putting his hand up, “That’s not the way this works. Our time is done, you’re with Slate now.”
“What? You’re just going to cut me off, like I mean nothing to you at all? No good-bye, just get out?”
“It’s not like that. I care about you, Misty. I have cared about you for longer than you can even imagine.” He sighed. “But I also care about this world. This is a serious matter, a serious task you have been burdened with and despite my feelings, I have to let you go and you have to understand that it you need to let me go too. Not forever, if that is the choice you ultimately make. But for now, you are not mine and I am not yours. As of today, it is like you are married to Slate, and any transgre
ssion would be a serious insult to all of them, but especially Slate.”
“It doesn’t matter what I agreed to. I want you! From the beginning and until the end,” I told him. Fingering my ring.
“You said you would be open minded.”
“Who gives a crap what I said?”
He looked displeased, shook his head and narrowed his eyes away from my face. “You need to leave that here as well,” he said.
“What? Leave what here?”
“The ring.”
He wasn’t fucking serious. No way was he serious!
“You promised to be open to seduction, for each of them. That said, you can’t go to them wearing my ring — on your finger or in here,” he said, putting his finger on my heart. “That would not be open. That would be decided.”
Well fuck you, I thought — but didn’t say it because he was right — as if right, mattered.
“Fuck off!” I cursed instead, and ripped the ring off my finger, as I backed up, and threw it at him. “Now I’m not open either. Slate has it easy. All he has to do is not say something stupid for fifteen minutes, and I’ll be sucking him off!” I screamed, and stormed out of the room. “Mother fucker!” I yelled, slamming the door behind me.
Slate, The Politic Lord
White Slate
There is no place like Mexico City.
It really doesn't matter how long I've been gone, or what I've done in the interim. The travels between arrivals or the experiences I've had out there in the world change nothing. No matter how long or how far I've gone, when I return to Mexico City, it fills a special place in my heart, like a second home, or perhaps even a second skin.
I was born to a corn farmer, and an elementary teacher in Nebraska. When my father died from an accident, my mother and I moved to Amarillo, Texas. I was twelve then.
There's not much to do in Amarillo for a long-legged blond from Nebraska, except to watch long legged boys from Texas ride horses, and round-up cattle. So, I was bored most of the time. Motivated to leave, motivated to see the world, any world with more to it than acres of corn, and miles of dust and cow shit.
Graduating early, I joined the Navy, two years in service, then three years of over scheduled college, with day and night classes and then to work. In the Navy I saw Japan, learned the language, adding it to four years of Spanish, and two years of German. Knowing the language had me stationed in Japan most of my time, which of course was the reason for learning.
Tokyo amazed me. It was a city as deep as it was high. The entire city felt, and looked like millions of people living together who actually gave a shit about each other, and their home.
Mexico City, looked, and felt like the antichrist of Tokyo. It was the Dread Steppes, the Nine Rings of Chaos, a city of Natural Selection. I loved it more than I can put into words and that says more than any words I could conjure — because I know a lot of words. Sei dankbar, dass ich keine Hexe bin.
Meeting up with Slate, the Unfortunate, was my reason for being here, but even without that, I might have flown here after what Kane did to me. I am not in the habit of handing out my heart. In fact, other than Kane, only one other had what I offered him, and that was my father.
Mexico City matched the pain I walked in, it felt like the only place on this planet able to bear my furious state inside its chaos. Not just anger or angst, but venomous thoughts raged in my mind as I exited the plane, and worked my way through the mass of people hurrying to luggage belts, exits, and looking for a cab.
I made a bargain, and I now understood the Powers I made that bargain with — and knew that backing out was not an option. Not if I wished to live outside of servitude to mind bending, will shattering beings. Oh yes, I understood the principle of human verse demi-god or whatever the fuck they were. I’ve studied my mythology well. Humans lose.
Perhaps Kami, was the better term. Kami were the Japanese gods and goddesses of all levels of power, and reach. Great and small, they numbered in the thousands. The greatest of them, the Okami, god of gods, was Amaterasu, the goddess of light — all light, and everything light shined on in the heavens, throughout the hells and across the earth. Without her all life dies, all worlds crumble, and the heavens fall into the hells, crashing.
Sounded like a blast of a time right now.
“Perdóneme,” I said, to a tall dark-haired woman standing in the middle of the stream of humanity, seeking luggage and escape from the throngs.
Instead of letting me pass, she stepped backward, blocking my way, bringing me up short with a jarring effort not to plow into her. “Perhaps not,” she said.
“What?” I said, surprised and confused.
“Excuse me. I meant, no,” she said, as she turned to meet my eyes with green gems harder than diamonds ever were.
“No, what?” I asked, stepping back.
She stepped forward, keeping a hand’s breath away from me. “No, I do not pardon you.”
“You don’t…” I looked right to left, unsure of what was going on, feeling that others must have been as confused by this woman’s aggressive move as I was — and found no one paying us the slightest bit of attention.
“Looking for help?” she asked. “You won’t find any such thing from me.”
“Who the fuck, are you?” I asked, feeling that if others couldn’t see my rage, then it was Go time, and if they could, well, this madness would be ended shortly.
“I am Inanna. You may call me Ishtar, Amaterasu or Gaia or Medb or Asherah or Mother Queen of the Northwest, or the Morrigan. I don’t care what you call me, I will not excuse you or be kind in any way if you do not cease your childish actions,” she said, and her words churned into my guts like ice drills.
Grabbing my stomach I stumbled back, away from her, and into the wall to the right of me. The pain was obnoxious. There was no reason my body should know how to signal this amount of pain. If I was really injured enough to warrant this, I should be dead. This pain, therefore, was all in my head, in my mind, and my mind right now was in this woman’s hands.
Her right hand came up, and she clenched it into a fist, snapping it closed. The pain doubled. Impossible, but it did. Then she twisted her wrist as if ripping out my guts, and I fell to my knees in utter disbelief that the threshold could spike that high. My mouth and throat opened to let out a scream I had no breath to evoke.
My vision faltered and blurred, black spots formed and grew — and then I saw a strawberry; a perfect single strawberry hanging in the air.
I stood, slow and faltering, but I stood. The pain washed over me like ocean waves, and it was terrible to behold, but I stood, and let them crash.
“You need to do better than that,” I growled. “What he did to me hurt much more than this.”
She raised an eyebrow, and the pain stopped, “Impressive. At least you’re the right one. I was hoping you weren’t, and would die. He’s made mistakes before. Well, once. It could’ve happened again. Let’s go.”
She turned, and started walking. When I didn’t follow right away, she stopped, and said without looking back, “Follow or I will force you to. It’s not flattering when I do that – people tend to walk stiff legged, and awkward for weeks after.” She shrugged, “Your choice.”
I decided to follow.
I started to follow, and then we were in the back of a limo. I don’t mean to say that I followed her through the airport, out the doors and got into a limo waiting at the curb. I mean, I began to follow, and then I was sitting with her in the back of a limo – without all that other stuff bothering to happen.
I looked to her. She was gorgeous. Beautiful enough to make me catch my breath, and I’m not a lesbian at all. “Why bother with the limo? Why not just materialize at your home, or a hotel?”
She smiled, “You don’t get thrown much do you?”
“I’m a reporter. We report what happens, not what we want or think is possible.”
She seemed to accept this. “Then to answer your question, because I’m not sta
ying. This is not our time. It is stolen.”
“To what purpose?” I asked, feeling that she wouldn’t bother if there wasn’t a truly important purpose.
“Perspective, and your lack of it,” she answered. “You have a narrow view of the world. It’s not your fault, you’ve required little more than the average mortal. Your boundaries are wider than most but that’s not really saying anything impressive. Most mortals see less than cattle. This is not an excuse however for what you’re playing at. You made a bargain.”
“I made the bargain only because of Kane,” I defended.
“I don’t care why you made it. You may as well have made it because your stomach hurt, and now it doesn’t. It makes zero difference. You made a bargain. Now you’re being a child.”
“A child? My heart is that meaningless to you?”
“Your heart has no meaning to me. A child does. What you fail to see is what’s at stake,” she told me, and jabbed her finger into my forehead.
What I saw wasn’t half as interesting as how I was seeing it — every plant, bird, fish, squirrel, bear, beast, man, woman and child; every single one of them. Not as a group, not as a mass of flesh, fur, and leaves, but each one, in personal view as if each had my full attention. And seeing isn’t correct. I knew each of them; their names, their dreams, their children, their lives, their fears. Each and every pain, and pleasure.
“If you continue on this path,” her voice entered the vision from the cold planets above, “over two thirds of all you see will burn in dragon fire.” And then columns of hellfire hit the earth. It struck from the heavens, it roared up from the earth, it split the sky, and wiped whole cities away in roars and tidal waves of lava.
Five Immortal Hearts Page 8
